Lauren is like an addiction. She’s got me suffering from withdrawals, only hours after taking a hit.

Craving. Needing. Wanting.

Like she requested, I went over to her place to grab the list of items she wanted me to take back to the villa. Most of it was easy to find, especially since Lauren’s place is super-organized and her closet is color-coded. What else should I have expected from a designer?

I did have a hard time finding some of Truffles’ toys as many of them were in odd places, like under the bed, under the couch, in the closet, and oddly I found one in the bathtub.

Jules was as friendly as ever, asking me to say Bonjour! to Lauren and Truffles for him. He helped me carry some items to my car. After explaining to him what happened with Simon, he said he’d tell the landlord not to renew his lease. Personally, I was hoping to run into Simon myself. I would have punched him, then thanked him for being such a dick. Thanks to him being an asshole, I got my forever gal.

Yep, I went there again.

Once I made it back home, I called Nana and Gramps, to check in on them and to also let Gramps know all of the town cars have been sold to another limo company. The two were giddy about the art gallery and their new house. With both not really familiar how FaceTime works, the chat session was pretty hilarious. They also got a kick about me and Lauren, wishing me well and were fascinated that Truffles seemed to know more about FaceTime than they do.

And my agent Ryan called, looking for my answer. I told him I haven’t made my decision yet. I’m still thinking about it, but my answer will probably be, an emphatic no.

“Aww, Jaxson sweetie, you got us some soup?” Lauren wraps her arms around my neck and gleams.

“Yep, after I dropped you off this morning, I asked Jacques to give me some of that soup you love so I can warm some up for dinner,” I say, feeling proud.

“Oh, you are so damn”—she lays soft kisses on my neck as I run my hands up and down her back—“perfect.”

We sit at the table, eating the small meal I prepared for us. Soup. Salad. Baguette.

I even picked out a wonderful bottle of wine for us to sip on.

“Thanks for picking up my stuff back at my place. I don’t know when I’ll feel like going back. It doesn’t even feel like home to me,” she says, eyes down, whirling the spoon around in her bowl of soup.

I tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “And does the villa feel like home?” I say, eager to know her response. I know it’s felt more like home to me, with her and Truffles here.

“Yes,” she says, her eyelashes fanning her face.

“Then you’re welcome to stay forever, Lauren.”

We eat in silence, her attention seeming to be occupied perhaps with thoughts about work. I know this time must be stressful for her, as the launch goes live soon.

“You okay?” I ask, breaking her pensive expression.

She gives a half-shrug. “Uh, yeah. I’m just thinking about all that has to be done in the coming days. It’s exciting and mentally exhausting.”

I admit, she does look worn out. And I want to comfort her.

“How about a bubble bath and then a good night’s sleep, babe? I mean as much as I want to make love, you need your rest.”

Her eyes dance with mine as she bobs her head, a satisfied grin on her face. “I’d love to take a bubble bath—with you.”

The bubbles cover our bodies, as I sit behind her, embracing her. The tub is huge, roman-style, otherwise, I’d barely fit. We’ve been basking in the bubbles for about twenty mins, adding more warm water when we feel the temperature drop. I massage her back, removing the tension, helping her relax.

“Mmmm,” she moans, and I am doing all it takes to keep my erection down. Yet it’s getting hard to ignore her body.

She leans into me, resting her back against the plane of my chest and I lick and suck her collar bone, then her shoulder. Quiet, sensual moments like these are the type some say only exist in romance novels. Well, then, this is the story of Jaxson and Lauren.

“How are things going with the magazine—everything on track?”

She rolls her neck as I continue to plant kisses on all parts of her my lips have access to. “Everything is kinda on track. At least I decided who is going to be on the cover.”

“Really? And who did you decide on?”

She slowly rubs my thighs with the tips of her fingers. “Me. I’m going to be on the cover. I got the idea from Daniella, Antonio Michaels’ wife.”

“You? Oh baby, that’s brilliant. Your beautiful face deserves to be on that cover—well, on any magazine really.”

“I’m pretty excited.” She lets out a small chuckle.

“Yeah, you say you’re excited, but I still think something is bugging you,” I say, hoping she’ll open up.

“I won’t be completely happy until everything is finalized. Including the fate of the ALLMe campaign.”

I rub her head. “Don’t, worry, babe. It’ll all work out.”

---

After our bath, Lauren climbs into bed, and sips on the cup of chamomile tea I prepared for her. Then I rub her head as she falls asleep, her head resting on my lap. And when she has completely dozed off, I slip out of the room, take Truffles outside to handle his business, watch the local news, then lock up the villa.

When I climb into bed next to my sleeping beauty, she wakes up.

Lauren grabs hold of my face, kisses my lips, and murmurs, “Make love to me.”

So I do. And God, does it feel good.